The long way home

We just observed Veterans Day, which is a good thing to do, but parades and observances aren't enough. Before I can talk with you about what we can do for our soldiers, we need to talk about the West African healing ceremony called Ndeup. You'll understand why in a minute.

By LAWRENCE BROWN

capecodtimes.com

By LAWRENCE BROWN

Posted Nov. 16, 2012 at 2:00 AM
Updated Nov 19, 2012 at 12:35 AM

By LAWRENCE BROWN

Posted Nov. 16, 2012 at 2:00 AM
Updated Nov 19, 2012 at 12:35 AM

» Social News

We just observed Veterans Day, which is a good thing to do, but parades and observances aren't enough. Before I can talk with you about what we can do for our soldiers, we need to talk about the West African healing ceremony called Ndeup. You'll understand why in a minute.

He had been depressed for a long time, the man whose story this is, when in Africa researching healing ceremonies, a shaman noticed his sadness and offered him a cure. He was skeptical but also curious to see where it would lead. All sorts of grains were purchased at the marketplace, yards of fabric, a chicken, a rooster and a white ram. There were all the makings of a feast.

After a time, he had to climb into a wedding bed with the ram. The whole village danced around them, covering them with layers of fabric and grain. The ram was slaughtered, and Solomon's naked body painted with its blood. They sat him in a chair and let it dry. Then the village women came up and washed it off. The butchered ram became a communal meal and celebration. Everyone was in on it. And oddly enough, despite Solomon's disbelief, he felt positively grand.

Contrast this experience with that of the soldiers returning from — it could be anywhere, Iraq to Vietnam. Too often, there they are, standing alone in baggage claim at Logan with their duffels over their shoulders. They don't need a parade, they need a village ... someone to wash the blood off.

Last summer, Cape Cod took its first step to doing something better. We held what is called a Stand Down for veterans on the campus of my school. Several big vans were parked outside offering various medical services, and as you walked down crowded corridors, there were tables everywhere with volunteers offering help with job placement, bone density screening, AIDS testing, glasses, various therapies — almost 40 services for veterans, and all for free.

Cape Cod's students, through the "Shelter from the Storm" concert series, raised the money to pay for all of it. The Nam Vets and Duffy Health Centers of Hyannis worked for months to pull it all off. Over 130 veterans were served; not a bad start for the first year. U.S. Rep. William Keating spoke to us for a few minutes, quite movingly. People shared stories. It's an effort we'll repeat this coming year — a Shelter concert in mid-February, a Stand Down next August.

Meanwhile, a soldier faces an enemy that uses children as shields. His officer, not waiting to be targeted, orders him to "light them up." He believes he shot five, for now in dreams the faces of these children appear before him, asking why he did it. A Vietnam veteran offers pictures of "crispy critters," the charred victims of napalm and phosphorous bombs, piled in a heap. He still carries the pictures after all these years. Getting these guys counseling and services is way better than not, but we really have no idea how to heal the deepest wounds borne by those who have served their country.

No mother nurses her child, pours out her love for this. If we cannot stop it, we must do better. Where is the homecoming Ndeup where we all gather for our soldiers, listen to their stories, invent rituals of cleansing and welcome? All too often we have treated them like sanitation workers, sent to distant places out of sight to scrub the world clean. We don't want to know what they do and what it's like. Not really. This has to change. We have a lot to learn, but we have begun to respond, not just as professionals but as a community with the Shelter concerts and the Stand Down.

In the presence of a whole village of strangers who nonetheless turned out for him, Solomon cast out his demons saying the words they taught him: "Leave me be; give me peace; and let me do the work of my life." And finally, in touching honesty, almost tenderness, "I will never forget you."

Lawrence Brown of Hyannis teaches humanities at Cape Cod Academy in Osterville. Email him at columnresponse@gmail.com. The next Shelter concert is Feb. 15 at Cape Cod Community College.